living just to find emotion
by sing me a rainbow
Summary: Spencer doesn't want to feel anymore. Rated for self-harming and character death. Spencer-centric.


**/**_**living just to find emotion/**_

Spencer's sitting on a bright orange stool, and he's spinning _aroundaroundaround_, the world becoming just a _**b l u r **_around him. Everything's _ohso _fast, and he loves every second of it.

**/ **_the dead never truly leave us, you know…__**/**_

The weaving _m u r m u r _of scandalized voices surround him, but it's nothing he hasn't heard before. He goes **fasterfasterfaster, **until finally the stool tips, spilling him to the marble floor, ripping his expensive funeral clothes. _T e a r s_ threaten to fall (_and ohno he can't do this!) _but a _**gurgle**_ stops him. He _l a u g h s_ too then, the boyish bark much in contrast to his sister's {**giggle**.}

/_he hears them late at night, when everyone else sleeps_…/

_/__**one, two, buckle my shoe**_

He's the only fifth grader at school still using Velcro, but he tells them it's 'cause his dog chews shoelaces off. He doesn't have a dog.

**/**_**three, four, knock on the door**_

One day there's a knock at their apartment door and a strange man takes him to a tall building where the colours blind him and everyone's just [_too nice, you know?] _They make him solve puzzles and draw pictures of his family, but for his mother he puts a hole. (_That's where she is now, y'know.) _

**/when he recalls this, years later, he remembers he is sitting on an orange stool./**

**: :**

He's in middle school now, where the teachers aren't _niceynicey _anymore. A woman with rusty hair yells at him from a bullhorn, the kids are all moving in clusters, and the PA blares constantly.

All in all, Spencer [_**l o v e s**_it].

He meets **Socko, **the short kid with olive-y skin and [_unfinished_] eyes, and they become instant enemies, Spencer _h a t i n g_ him so much he could _**explodexplodexplode—**_

-but of course they land in detention {**together},** and that's really /_all it takes_./

**: :**

**/**_**don't ever look back, don't ever look back**_**/**

**: :**

High school is _ohsodifferent _from middle school. He feels [**soalone,] **and his dad notices this but _**ignoresitignoresit—**_

Until finally, inevitably, the scissors are dancing over his pale skin, pressing in, the blood rushing out but _n e v e r e v e r_ falling. He gives up, feeling **nothing at** _a l l_.

_**[[I never thought it would come down to this…]]**_

(_Some people dread pain. He __**l o n g s**__ to _**feel**_ some_.)

He laughs and breathes and lives and yells, the teachers fondly calling him a firecracker. His marks rise and dip, rise and dip. And he's _**p o p u l a r.**_

/So **why** isn't he _h a p p y?/_

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_His first kiss is at eleven- his first __**real**__ kiss at seventeen._

**Her name was {Lily} and she tasted like **_l e m o n a d e__**.**_

_She hurts him. She hurts him, and he never wants to __**f e e l**__ pain again._

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**/**_**he's different all right. marches to his own drum./**_

~*V*~

Law school plain old _**sucks**_.

It's boring, dull and _**goes –by- the- rules**_**,** all the things that Spencer {[_n e v e r_]} was. Slowly, he feels himself _m e l t_ into the briefcases and day-old coffee, the grey suit his {[**father]}** makes him wear.

Socko sympathizes (_but he would, you know, owning a sock store and all_) and offers kind, useless bestfriend advice that Spencer ignores.

He's out of there in three days, after a vicious battle involving toilet paper, ballpoint pens, and a very confused chipmunk .

**/spencer doesn't melt. he **_**s h in e s./**_

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It's when his father [[_**l e a v e s**_ him]] that he discovers _**sculpting**_.

(**Colours rush, shapes mold {together}**.)

_What more could he ask for?_

_**/what you always thought you knew/**_

_There are things he and Carly a v o i d. She doesn't ask about his scars, and he doesn't ask about hers._

**{[We need help, don't we?]}**

**: :**

They walk in together, Carly mumbling about how she [**doesn't have to do this]**, how she's _finejustfine. _

_I'm doing this for you, kiddo._

The therapist surveys them through her thick glasses. Silence. Then—

_**-can you see through walls with those things?**_

_Shutupjustshutup!_

_There are tissues on her table. Spencer vows to [__**neverever**__] use them._

: :

(And he doesn't. They leave her office that day and they never come back.)

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_**The alcohol stings him. It burns him so hard, so damn hard he gags. He rips a sculpting knife through his skin, the blood pours out thick and fast—**_

_**For the first time in weeks, he s m i l e s.**_

_/I blame only myself./_

That's all he says at **her** f u n e r a l. Four simple, bitter, [{_**painfully}] h o n e s t**_ words.

He turns and /**walks/**. Walks until his brain turns to mush, until he can't remember his own name.

He can, however, still remember hers.

(So he _**w a l k s**_ some more.)

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

_/who's __**p l a y i n g**__ with who, here?/_

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_Streetlight people,_

**Living**_ just to find__** {[emotion]}**_

_Hiding __**s o m e w h e r e**__ in the {[night]}_

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

Spencer doesn't want to feel anymore.

**A/N: First time trying something like this! I chose Spencer to experiment with, cause there's**

**not enough Spencer fics, and he's really a very deep character. I hope it's okay, and not too weird. :P. Tell me what you thought about it! **


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